Often I feel my words are empty 

Fueled by an absense of peace

Laying dormant upon an empty street;

With none to stare back at me

 

To me a passion of words was given

Voices of those unwritten continually sound

A traveler unable to rest on solid ground;

His ideas a close companion during his time in his shadow's prison

 

A life of apathy purged all hope

Time wasted wishing he could be

An old man reflecting on all the things he did not see;

Only seconds from releasing his soul into the hands of the one tying the rope

 

The beauty of the world behind a closed eye

Focused on the land which shall never be reached

A minister vomiting out the words his father preached;

Personality and life slowly passing him by

 

To some a dream is as a burden

Representing a better version of their saddened mind

An adventurer with no distant land left to find;

Now returning to where his feet have already been

 

Often I find my life is without purpose

Fueled by the absence of joy

Dying alone next to the memory of a boy;

Wishing he could share the symptom of his death: a soul eternally hopeless